


Evil Us

by Akare



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Nogitsune Stiles, None of this is real, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-11 23:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akare/pseuds/Akare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was having a whinge that no one had written anything from the pov of the Stiles who was writing ‘wake up!’ all over that notepad. Then I had a thought and here this is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He’s the only one of them who is sane. Stiles is not playing with a full deck, doesn’t have all his faculties, doesn’t have any idea what’s going on. The nogitsune, or Evil Us as he’d called him before they knew what it was, is all over psychotic. He’s pretty sure Evil Us just wants to destroy everything… and everyone. So, as the only sane member of the Stiles Triumvirate (The Trilogy of Stiles? Three Shades of Stilinski?) he figures he’s going to have to be the one to save them all. Because let’s be honest Stiles has been unconscious and/ or sleepwalking for most of the past month.

He feels himself getting pressed and pulled and stretched and created as soon as Stiles lays eyes on the nemeton. But it isn’t until Evil Us is already in his head that he truly becomes a totally separate being… Except that he can’t be separate because he’s part of Stiles’ brain- the self-preservation part. The part that knows he needs to mark out a little corner for himself before Evil Us takes over entirely.

He carves it out in a corner somewhere, under a memory of lacrosse practice before Scott was turned. It’s embarrassing, watching himself trip over his feet in front of Lydia over and over again but it’s safe too. Before he knows what Evil Us is he surrounds the oval with wolfsbane because it’s got to be werewolf related, right?

Wrong.

One day, after the nightmares start, after he knows there’s something trying to get in, something in the darkness. Something in his head. Before he realises it’s Evil Us and it wants Stiles to sleep so it can do what it wants with him. Before that, Derek shows up in the lacrosse field memory, just strolls past the ash circle as easy as you like. He’s watching Scott pacing himself, nervous after an attack earlier in the week. Derek sits beside him on the bench.

"You’re not in this memory," he says. "So I guess you’re Mr Subconscious?"

Derek smiles, easy and sly.

He is not turned on by that at _all_.

"You’re not in this memory either," Derek counters easily.

He shrugs and they both go back to watching memory Stiles fumble about on the field. Is he really that unco-ordinated?

"It’s quite sweet seeing you like this," Derek says. "Before…"

"Before you and your crazy uncle?" he grins. "What are you doing here? Lydia wanted me to close the door. What are you gunna tell me to do?"

"Open it," he says gently. Derek looks at him, a sudden fond look on his stupid beautiful face. His tone turns to pleading. "Let me in."

There’s a weight in his stomach like a lump of iron frozen inside a glacier, shifting slowly until it reaches his toes. He can’t move his legs. He can’t breathe. He doesn’t need to breathe. He’s an unreal thing inside his own brain. A little cut off part of Stiles that isn’t Stiles because Stiles is asleep again, isn’t he?

"Who… _What_ are you?”

"Right now?" Derek leans in closer, tilts his head like some kind of insane bird. "Right now I’m Derek. Don’t you like me being Derek?" He smiles again. "I like being Derek. It’s…" He pushes their shoulders together and turns his mouth against his ear. "It can be all yours, you know? I can do that for you." Derek’s lips brush against his skin and that glacier in his gut starts heating up. "You wanna take this to the locker room?"

"N… No." He pulls away. Stands up. Hunts for some part of his brain that’s still connected to Stiles. He can hear Coach yapping away about something, GDPs and GNPs, and he knows whatever it is that’s in his brain is distracting him with Derek. He can touch the dream if he tries hard enough, he can warp it, he can…

On the bench Derek smiling, almost laughing.

Stiles is dreaming. Dreaming of a room of silent classmates asking him a riddle. He can feel the confusion, the panic slipping into him like iced water, his muscles start shivering, his breath uneven.

Stiles is dreaming and an evil thing wearing Derek Hale’s face is twisting it, stealing a language Stiles cannot know to ask him ‘When is a door not a door?’

But under his hand he can feel paper, and between his fingers there’s a pen.

"When is a door not a door?" Derek asks.

'Wake up,' he writes.

"When is a door _not_ a door?”

'Wake up.'

"Don’t fight me on this one, baby," Derek cajoles. "It’ll only hurt more in the long run."

'Wake up.'

Derek steps toward him. He takes a step back. The wolf had nothing on this guy. Derek Hale, stalker and werewolf, was a fucking puppy compared the growing anger in evil Derek’s eyes.

His back hits a door. His door. And Derek’s grabbing his jacket. It’s a old memory. Worn thin by constant replays, usually ending in the bed.

"When is a door not a door?" Derek hisses.

His hand is still furiously writing, hoping Scott will wake him, hoping someone, anyone will pull him out of this before he can no longer look at the real Derek ever again. Before this memory is broken, and so is he.

But there’s a noise. A high pitched squealing, like a tea kettle, or a… whistle.

He smiles at Derek. He pushes back against the hard, warm body pressed to his. He gets his mouth against Derek’s ear, lets his teeth graze the shell. “That one’s easy,” he whispers. “When it’s ajar.”

Stiles wakes up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally wrote a sequel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 is essentially episode 3.13. This is 3.14.

Ok.

He thinks he’s got it all worked out now. There’s Evil Us, and there’s conscious, in-the-dark-and-has-no-idea-what’s-going-on Stiles, and there’s him. But Deaton thought the riddle asker was subconscious!Stiles. Which makes four Stiles…es? Lots of Stiles. Multiple Stiles.

But Deaton was wrong. The riddle was from Evil Us. Evil Us wanted to come _in_. He’s pretty sure his subconscious isn’t evil so that means subconscious!Stiles must still be around somewhere. He’s the Stiles with all the information. He’s the one who can sort out what’s going on from both Evil Us and conscious Stiles he’s… Him? He must be Stiles’ subconscious…

Huh.

That’s cool… Sort of. Maybe. It does mean he has all the answers. Or he’s at least capable of making sense of them. So, ok, time to work this shit out.

He cracks his knuckles as Greenberg collapses at his feet.

"Dammit Greenberg!" Coach yells.

As he starts marching over to go on another rant about Greenberg’s lack of school spirit he realises that this memory isn’t safe any more. Evil Us knows that he’s here. He rises from the bleachers, scanning the field, the car park, the woods. There’s no one out of place but he can’t shake the creeping feeling that slithers over his shoulders. He really hopes that if Evil Us comes back he looks like… well, Jackson or the twins or Agent McCall. You know, someone he’s not going to hesitate to punch in the face.

He hunts for a new safe haven, a better one. He finds a memory that makes him laugh. It’s a Halloween festival- he’s Batman, Scott’s Superman and Mrs McCall is Wonder Woman. She looks amazing, eight year old Stiles is having trouble concentrating. So is his father. Melissa chides the Sheriff for not dressing up, but Stiles reckons his Sheriff’s uniform _is_ a superhero costume, every day of the week. They both ‘aww’ at him. He figures that’ll get him and Scott another ice cream or two later.

He takes a seat on a hay bale and watches baby Scott and Stiles chase each other with toffee apples.

He has the answers, he tells himself. He knows everything Stiles knows and he’s capable of sorting through it all. He’s seen Evil Us. He _knows_. So what has Evil Us been doing besides riddles?

He searches his memories. What happened yesterday? He went to school. Normal. Scott made a new friend. Totally normal. Scotty was a goddamn ball of sunshine. He was… There’s something else. He’s doing something while he’s sleeping. He can feel it. The lull, the calm before the storm. Evil Us is up to something while Stiles is asleep. And they won’t know, no one will know until it’s already happened.

Research!

Yeah, he did research. Well, one of them did, conscious Stiles or Evil Us. Looked into… Borrow? Barrows? Why was he researching burial mounds?

"Barrow," a soft voice says next to him.

He freezes. “Don’t you dare,” he says without looking. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

The voice changes. “You prefer Derek?” Derek asks.

"Yes," he spits and glares at the son of a bitch. "If you ever fucking—"

"She’s off limits," Derek smiles. "I can do that for you, Stiles… For you."

"Oh don’t do me any favours," he replies.

Derek laughs. “I’m growing quite fond of you. We’ll work well together.” His form shifts a little, he shrinks and his jaw grows narrower, his nose rounder, his hair longer and curlier. “If we’re going to be partners in crime,” Scott grins. “I really should look like this, don’t you think?”

"We’re not partners in crime," he sighs. "Why were you looking up barrows?"

Scott shrugs. “Funsies?”

"Fun…? Right." Then it clicks. "Barrow."

Scott smiles proudly.

"William Barrow, the shrapnel bomber. Why were you looking him up?"

Scott pats his arm. “Man, you are the best bestie ever. You know that? I’m gunna go find some cotton candy.”

"Tell me," he stands, following the shade of his best friend into the crowd. "Tell me!"

"No way!" Scott waves. "See you… well, later. Maybe when I’m done. There’s heaps to plan, Stiles. Heaps to plan."

He stops in the crowd, watching the broad shoulders of his brother weaving between younger versions of people he still knows and he gets it. Finally. There’d been a little nagging thought that maybe he was just going mad. Maybe the whole thing with the nemeton had just sent him off the edge. But this Evil Us? He wasn’t Us. He wasn’t Stiles. He wasn’t going mad. He was being invaded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. Still on [tumblr.](http://akare-kay.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> This was also posted on my [tumblr](http://akare-kay.tumblr.com). So come visit if you like. I'm multi-fandom. There might be more of this but there's about a million and one places this could go... Most of them will up the rating significantly :)


End file.
